The words tumbled over each other.

Her hand wrenched itself free.
"My dear girl!" said Wentworth.

"Don't be so melodramatic! No man is guilty until he is proved so.

And--thanks to the kindly offices of your good husband--I did not suffer the final catastrophe." "But--but--but--" Her utterance seemed suddenly choked.

She rose, feeling blindly for the door.
"It's locked," said Wentworth, and there was a ring of malice in his voice.